


The Instinct

by DaScribbla



Series: Red [6]
Category: The Night Manager (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Blood, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, I am so sorry, Implied Flashbacks, Interrogation, Minor Gun Violence, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Torture, Waterboarding, implied pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 20:36:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6625288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaScribbla/pseuds/DaScribbla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything they’d been through, every moment they’d felt themselves growing closer, and it would end here: with a bullet in a hotel bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crooked Neighbor, Crooked Heart

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the last fic in the collection, but there will one more chapter after this, which you will probably appreciate.   
> The chapter title comes from WH Auden's As I Walked Out One Evening, which is one of my favorite poems. I highly recommend you read it. You can also find audio recordings of Tom Hiddleston reading it, which is very nice too.  
> Shout-out as ever to inanesanity/mjolnir-s-master for being my sounding board through all this horribleness.

Things were beginning to break apart. Jed knew it intrinsically as a growing awareness of the chasms in their relationship. Too many things were being left unsaid. At least part of it was the hotel -- something about it grated on Jonathan to the point that she’d seen him panicking in the shower once. And _that_ had been terrifying. He hadn’t seemed to have known who she was, continuously murmuring another woman’s name between sobbing breaths of air. _Samira, Samira, Samira…_

Then he’d grabbed her wrist after she’d knelt beside him, trying to help him.

“Don’t go back in there. _Please,_ ” he begged her, eyes wide and haunted, like a spooked horse. “Oh god… Jed…” She held him close, until his hyperventilating finally ceased, unsure of what else she could do for him.

She didn’t tell Richard. She knew on some level that this was not something he was meant to know about.

It was a strange day-to-day life: shopping in Cairo, dinner and drinks in the evenings, making broken love in the night. The afternoon they’d arrived had been the only time Jonathan had needed to use his safeword, but something was different now. They were all tired.

Knowing that nothing was going to be the same again didn’t make it any easier to accept.

She caught Jonathan one morning alone in the bathroom. His face was almost a blank, which worried her. He wasn’t normally so wooden.

“Have you noticed it too?” she asked him in an undertone. Richard was still asleep in the next room. “The atmosphere now?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve noticed it. Hey --” He caught her arm. “Can you do something for me?”

 

Richard teased her a little about apparently thinking all Egyptians were thieves but agreed to store her jewelry in the suite safe. The beeping of Richard typing in the code was shrill in the quiet of the hotel room and Jed knew without needing to look that Jonathan, at a perfect angle to see, was memorizing it and filing it away for future reference. 

Her jewelry clinked into place among the business papers that could imprison at least two of them with one leak. And there was a neat symmetry in that.

 

Now Richard’s hand slung loosely around her waist as they moved through the gambling tables of Hamid Senior’s casino, countless shadowy figures pressing close, all smelling of money.

She was a good gambler and usually got lucky, but tonight didn’t feel like a good evening to take a risk. Looking from Richard at her side to Jonathan nearby, who was handing Freddie Hamid a glass of champagne, she felt like she’d been losing far more than she’d been winning.

“Alright, Jed?” This was Richard, speaking directly into her ear. His voice so deep and so close sent a pang between her legs and she cursed the fact that he still had that effect on her. How could she still want him after all of this?

“Fine, darling.” She smiled. _Lust is just a learned instinct_ , she told herself. _You can unlearn it too._

He handed her a cocktail, which she downed rather gratefully. Anything to dull this growing depression.

A minor commotion nearby caught their attention as Jonathan tried, laughing, to hold Freddie back from the roulette table.

“Come on, Freddie. I think you’ve had a little too much --”

“No, I’m _fine,_ ” insisted Freddie with a petulance that made Jed embarrassed to simply hear it.

“Come on. I’m taking you home.” Jonathan caught Richard’s eye, wordlessly asking permission; Richard waved him on.

“Be a gentleman, Andrew,” he said as they passed by, Freddie supported by Jonathan, who laughed.

“No other way to be, sir.”

With her last anchor to Earth and possibly sanity disappearing out the door of the casino, Jed did her best to concentrate on other things. When a faceless woman in a royal blue gown offered her codeine, she didn’t turn it down. Hell, if she couldn’t have real happiness, she’d take the synthetic alternative anytime. And it worked: the casino suddenly became brighter and more cheerful, the other figures in the crowds less sinister, the shadows less murky, Richard kinder and less stressed. He obligingly spun and dipped her at some point in the evening, eliciting some applause from those nearby. Impulsively, she kissed him, long and deep, her hands carding through his hair.

“Take me home?” she breathed.

“In a heartbeat.”

 

He deposited her laughing on the bed in their suite and didn’t hesitate to climb on after her. Her dark skirt pooled around her hips, her panties landed silently on the floor beside the bed, and then Richard was running his mouth over the insides of her thighs, pausing to lick a long delicate stripe over her folds. Nuzzling further and further up, over her belly, and she groaned as he slid his teeth over one fabric-covered nipple. And then he was kissing her and she pulled him onto herself, thighs hooking tightly around him. Their union felt reassuringly familiar, with Richard’s weight over her and his hands on either side of her head, mouth roving everywhere. They came almost simultaneously. Breathing hard, Richard stroked her hair back from her forehead.

“What is it?”

Her cheeks were damp. At some point, she’d started to cry.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, wiping tears from her eyes. Then she laughed. “I’m just so happy.” He laughed too, in a way that sounded almost pitying as he rolled beside her and pulled her close. “Just so happy,” she repeated, curling into him.

Or maybe that was the codeine talking.

 

At some point after midnight, she heard Jonathan open and close the door to their suite, turn on the shower, and then felt him slide into bed beside Richard several minutes later. He had a room of his own, for appearance’s sake, but they’d given up all pretense. He lived with them.

“How’s Freddie?” Richard muttered, rolling over. 

“Fine.” 

He dropped off almost immediately.

Watching him in the near-darkness, Jed realized that this was the calmest and most contented that she’d ever seen him in sleep.

 

When she woke again, it was to the sound of Richard’s mobile phone ringing. Groaning, he reached clumsily over Jonathan to pick up.

“Hello?” He sat up groggily. “What’s that? Oh. Hm. I see.” He awkwardly climbed out of bed and headed into the next room. It was still dark out. Jonathan rolled into the hollow left by Richard’s body, his breath warm against Jed’s collarbone. Without waking him, she pulled him close against her and closed her eyes. Sleep came readily once more.

 

Early in the morning, she discovered that Richard had not returned to bed. But Jonathan was there, staring up at the ceiling. He threaded his fingers with her, smiling as she pressed her lips into his hair.

“Jed,” he murmured. After a moment: “I need you to find Richard.” She frowned.

“And…”

“And whatever happens, I need you to keep him out of here for about six minutes. Can you do that?”

Jed bit back her frustration and anger -- _another favor_ \-- and nodded. “Sure.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry,” he added as she climbed out of bed and reached for her dressing gown to cover herself. She heard the rustling of bed sheets behind her: Jonathan was getting up to do… something. She didn’t want to know what. 

_If only,_ she thought, searching for Richard in each room, _things could have stayed how they were. But here we are._

She found Richard sitting on the sofa in the living room, staring blankly in front of him. His right hand gripped the armrest, his knuckles white, partially covered by the sleeve of his dressing gown.

“Richard?”

He looked up when she sat down beside him, brow furrowing.

“What are you doing up?” he asked. “Practically the crack of dawn.”

“Not really,” she said. “The sun’s rising.”

“Where’s Andrew?”

“Still asleep.”

He grunted and then stood, stretching. 

“Shall we in? I’d like to catch breakfast soon.”

He was already making for the bedroom.

“Wait.” Jed caught his arm and he turned back to her. Something. She had to say something. The question rose out of her. “Have you -- have you noticed what’s happened to us?” 

“Jeds?”

“It’s just... “ She sighed helplessly. “It’s not the same.” He was gazing at her with an unreadable expression -- was that agreement, sudden realization, or something else?”

“I know, Jeds,” he said at long last. He cradled her cheek for a moment. “It won’t last. I promise.”

And then, before she could stop him, he closed the distance to the bedroom and pushed open the door. 

Jed’s heart stopped.

Jonathan stood at the safe in his underwear, frantically pressing buttons. Several legal documents were clenched in one hand. He looked up at Richard, anxiety becoming acceptance with a tragic speed on his face. 

There was utter silence.

“You knew,” said Jonathan finally.

Richard nodded.

“I knew.”

“For how long?”

“Since about three in the morning. Stroke of bad luck, the domestic finding the body like that.”

Jed looked wildly from Jonathan back to Richard.

“The body?” she asked. Richard turned to look at her.

“You didn’t know.” His voice was harsh. “Andrew murdered Freddie Hamid last night.” There was no trace of the bravado Jed would have expected in this situation, given her knowledge of Richard’s personality. Just bitter anger mixed with disappointment. “Can’t pretend to know why, though,” he added, turning back to Jonathan. 

The legal papers crumpled in his hands.

“Sophie Alekan,” he said through gritted teeth. His breath shuddered in and out of him.

Richard regarded him for a long, long time. Jed looked from one man to the other, not understanding, not sure if she wanted to. 

“Oh dear,” Richard said, sounding suddenly tired. “Oh, Andrew.”

“You know that’s not my name.”

“Jonathan, then.” Richard stepped closer. “There. That should be a relief. All those months of wanting to hear me say it and you finally get your wish. Oh, Jonathan. Don’t you know that passion is your worst enemy?”

“Speak for yourself.” 

Richard didn’t dispute it. There was a love bite on Jonathan’s shoulder; Jed couldn’t remember who put it there. 

“You know what I have to do,” said Richard, and there was a note of steel in his voice now. Jonathan swallowed hard.

“You don’t have to.”

“And do what, then?” Richard laughed humorlessly. “Keep dressing you in those beautiful suits, keep stringing you around the world, keep fucking you into the mattress every night? God. I wonder if you’d mind.”

“Richard…” Jed’s voice came low and tense. “Richard, please.” He turned his gaze on her and she felt a jolt of fear at the suspicion in his eyes. “I…” Her voice weakened audibly, but she pushed through. “Please don’t.”

He stared at her, eyes boring into her own. 

“Did you _know?”_

“Richard --”

“ _Did_ you?” His barely contained outrage was as tragic as it was terrifying. “Good god. Oh, my good god, you both were in it.” He turned away, eyes lifted to the ceiling and a hand at his temples. “I should have known. I should have _fucking_ known.”

“Richard, this won’t make it any easier,” Jonathan said. “If you -- if you --”

The blow struck him across the cheek, knocking his head to the side. Jed took a step back so she was pressed against the wall. Her eyes blurring with tears, she didn’t see the next slap, but she heard Jonathan cry out involuntarily. 

“ _Tabby!”_ Richard’s voice was more like the growl of a dog than a person. The door to the suite opened and it didn’t take long for the bodyguard to find them. “Andrew here,” said Richard, deliberate and dangerous, “has been playing us false. There are a few things I’d like to ask.”

“I see,” was all that Tabby said. 

Jonathan didn’t wait for him to approach -- he hurled himself at Tabby and managed to throw one punch before the bigger man twisted his arm behind his back and shoved him to the floor just long enough to slide a pair of zip ties over his wrists. He rolled him over and waited only long enough to make eye contact with Jonathan before bringing his fist down. 

Jed must have screamed because Richard came behind her and covered her mouth with his hand, pressing her against him. 

_“I have to do this,_ ” he murmured in her ear, _“so we can survive. You see?”_ She sobbed into his palm as the beating continued in front of them. Jonathan was no longer fighting back. He simply lay on the floor, jerking backward with every blow that transformed his face into pulp. “That’ll do, Tabby,” Richard said out loud, and the bodyguard lowered his hands. His knuckles were raw and bloody. 

Leaving her, Richard came to kneel by Jonathan. A hand stroked through his red-stained hair. 

“Your connection. The people you’re working for,” he said. “I want to know who they are.” He sighed. When he spoke next, his voice was quieter. “I don’t like this, Jonathan. You know that. Put us both out of our misery.” Jed was at the perfect angle to see Jonathan turn his face away. She covered her eyes. Richard sighed. “Run a bath for us, would you, Tabby?” 

Jonathan caught on a second before Jed did. Everyone heard how his breath quickened and, as Tabby stood and dragged Jonathan into the bathroom behind him, Jed realized. 

“No. _No!”_ She made a dash after them, but Richard was there to catch her. 

“There’s nothing you can do for him, Jed.” 

“ _Let_ go _of me!”_

The sound of water filling the bathtub seemed deafening. She and Richard struggled directly in front of the bathroom door; Jed watched, nauseous and desperate, as Tabby held Jonathan over the bath, forcing him to watch it fill. She sagged in Richard’s grip.

“Please…” she mumbled, tears slipping down her face. “You can still turn back…”

“You know better than that, Jed.”

The water shut off suddenly, leaving the room sounding unsettlingly quiet. Jed dug her nails into Richard’s arm, willing him to let her go so she wouldn’t have to see, but he seemed to have forgotten her. Or perhaps he needed to hold her to get himself through it. Their bodies were taut against each other.

Tabby seized a handful of Jonathan’s hair and shoved his head beneath the trembling surface of the bath. Jed stared, wide-eyed. Realized she was holding her own breath and fought to let it out. It was hard to remember how to breathe when not six feet away, a man was being drowned. 

Twenty seconds after he’d been forced beneath the surface, Jonathan’s body spasmed and there was a pitiful choking sound. Tabby shoved his head further in. Jed turned her face away, realizing sickly that Richard was stroking her upper arm, trying to comfort her. 

Water splashed onto the floor as Jonathan resurfaced with a gasp. Tabby continued to hold onto him, forcing him to stay still as he shuddered and fought to regain the breath he’d needed. Richard suddenly let go of Jed and stepped into the bathroom. 

“Who are you working for?” he said. Jonathan groaned. “Are they in England?” Still nothing. “Are they in Egypt?” Nothing. Richard nodded to Tabby and Jed took that as her cue to look away, to lean against the wall, to close her eyes, cover her ears, and try to shut it all out. 

She lost count of the number of times they did it. But nothing could block out the horrible splashing or Richard’s constant questions -- _how much does your employer know? How often do you communicate with them? When?_ \-- or the sound of Jonathan’s battle for breath. And so it went on, and Jed found herself reliving countless small moments from the last few months: Jonathan sitting on the side of Richard’s desk, waiting patiently to be noticed; Richard’s mouth on her thighs last night; her dancing with them both at some dinner party; catching the two of them kissing each other behind Jonathan’s cabin by the ocean; and even further back, to Jonathan sipping wine from Richard’s glass, _keep your eyes open._

Jed sobbed into her knees. In the bathroom, Jonathan’s wheezing reverberated off the walls.

“He’s not going to stop, Jonathan,” said Richard. “Tabby never stops.” Silence, except for Jonathan gasping. “Who else are you working with?” There was a sudden gagging sound, and water slapped onto the floor. 

Richard strode out of the bathroom, haggard and gray-faced, raking his hands through his hair. The hem of his dressing gown was wet. 

“He’s not going to tell you anything.” 

He looked down to where Jed was slumped against the wall, her face blotched and wet.

“This sort of thing takes time, Jed,” he said. “Trust me on this.”

“Look, it’s been --” She glanced at the clock. “Good God, it’s been over an hour now. Isn’t that enough?” Her voice grew thick. “How can you do this to him.” Richard’s jaw set.

“I do this because I _have_ to.”

“All those times when he trusted you to take care of him --”

“He didn’t trust me at all,” Richard snarled. “Every single time, it was nothing but a game.”

“That’s not true!” Her voice broke. “God! Don’t you know that he’s in love with you? And you’re just…” 

Richard’s face darkened even further and suddenly he strode back into the bathroom. Jed leaped to her feet.

“Wait --”

“Is your silencer on?” Richard asked Tabby, who nodded. “Give it to me..” Jed’s heart skipped a beat as Tabby handed him his revolver. “Pull him up.” The bodyguard took a fistful of Jonathan’s hair and yanked him into an upright position. He’d been sprawled in front of the bath, weak, nearly naked. Now he stared up at Richard, bruises blossoming across his face, certain areas red where Tabby had broken the skin. The water in the bath was bloody. His eyes were dull and dead as Richard cocked the gun and pointed it at his forehead, and Jed couldn’t make a sound; her fingers gripped the door jam, her teeth set. Everything they’d been through, every moment they’d felt themselves growing closer, and it would end here: with a bullet in a hotel bathroom. Like killing a dog. 

And Jonathan was still gazing up at him.

Richard’s hand tightened on the trigger, wavered and he lowered the revolver, turning away. For a moment, his eyes expressed nothing but grief. Then it vanished as he looked at Jed.

“Put something practical on,” he told her. 

“Shall I continue, sir?” asked Tabby, and Jed saw Jonathan’s body shudder. Richard hesitated, still pointedly avoiding Jonathan’s gaze. 

“-- yes. Do it again.”

Jonathan _whimpered_ , high-pitched and panicked, and Jed didn’t move quickly enough to miss Tabby forcing him back underwater, his knee braced against his back to keep him beneath the surface. His arms, still tied behind his back, flapped helplessly.

Now she moved with frantic haste to throw on jeans and a blouse.  She didn’t know what was in Richard’s mind, but she wasn’t about to cross him now. He dropped the revolver on the bedside table beside the digital clock, and now stood outside the bathroom with his head leaned back against the wall, tired. As she packed, she found herself counting the seconds since Jonathan had gone under again: ten, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, forty-five… 

Suddenly, Jed understood. No question had been asked this time. This was not interrogation. This was payback. _How dare you make me love you and then betray me…_

Fifty-five… a minute… a minute and fifteen seconds, twenty, twenty-five… thirty… 

“Richard, please.” He didn’t seem to have heard her. Jonathan was audibly choking now. This was running longer than they’d done it before, but still, Richard did not give the order to stop. “ _Richard._ ”

“Jed, don’t.”

“Richard, he’s going to --” She stopped. _Perhaps that’s what he wants._

Jonathan moaned in the other room, strangled and distorted through the water, and suddenly Jed couldn’t take it. 

She lunged for the revolver on the bedside table and pointed it between Richard’s eyes, just the way he’d done to Jonathan two minutes before. 

“Jed --!”

“Stop it,” she said between teeth that were suddenly chattering. She was shaking, the gun wavering from its target, but the shock in Richard’s eyes was real. “Make him stop.”

“You too,” he said, sounded resigned. 

“I can’t let this happen.”

A long moment of them looking at each other, the gun between them, and then Richard sighed. He turned his head to the bathroom door.

“That’s enough.”

A ragged gasp rose from the bathroom, splashing, and the sound of Jonathan sobbing, amplified by the bathroom acoustics. Jed tossed the gun onto the bed and made to run for the bathroom, but Richard caught her arm.

“Dress him,” he growled. “Dress him and then get out.”

Still shaking, Jed found a pair of trousers and a shirt in Jonathan’s suitcase and hurried into the bathroom. 

At an order from Richard, Tabby had cut the zip ties from Jonathan’s hands. Now he lay in a puddle of water on the bathroom floor, barely conscious, with raw marks on his wrists from the ties and the wounds on his face already welling blood again. She knelt beside him and he tried to squirm away.

“Shhh…” She caught his hand and pressed it to her lips. “It’s me, it’s Jed…”

He relaxed at the sound of her voice, staring half-blindly at her, his lips moving as if trying to repeat her name.

The button-down looked incongruously clean compared to his battered face. His nose looked broken, but she couldn’t tell for certain.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured as she wrestled him into his clothes. “I should have worked harder to keep him out --” There was a loud crash from the other room, as if Richard had hurled something at the wall. “I’m so sorry…” He touched her wrist weakly, eyes widening as he tried to shake his head. The whites of his eyes showed brilliant. 

“Not… your… fault…”

His voice was deeper than normal and sounded constricted in his chest. He’d need a doctor, some kind of medical attention, but with Freddie Hamid dead and Jonathan the last person to have seen him alive, where could they go…

“My patience is running out,” came Richard’s voice from the bedroom. Feverishly, she did up the zipper of Jonathan’s trousers and, with a grunt of exertion and several cries of pain from Jonathan, pulled him to his feet, wrapping his arm around her neck. They staggered out of the bathroom to find Richard standing with his back to them. 

“Richard --”

“Get _out_.”

She gazed at him for a minute longer, opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and went to the door. Jonathan was heavy at her side. They’d have to take the fire escape to avoid other people.

She paused in the doorway, turning to look back at him one more time. He was watching them go, eyes glimmering. 

And then she turned away and walked on, heart hammering in her chest, Jonathan weeping quietly on her shoulder as they made their way down the hall, knowing that he would watch them until they disappeared from view, and then from his life as a whole.


	2. To Lie Down, To Scatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The majority of time after catastrophe was spent in waiting, Jed discovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you may have noticed, there are now three chapters listed for this fic. What can I say? 
> 
> The title of this chapter comes from another poem, this one "cruel, cruel summer" by D. A. Powell.

She walked in a trance, Jonathan hanging on her side, nails digging into her skin. The world did not seem her own; surely she was still several flights upstairs and staring at Richard, or trying to keep him from entering the bedroom, or still sleeping at his side, knowing that Jonathan was just inches away… So still, so quiet. How could everything have gone so horrifically _wrong?_

The memories would be foggy and unclear later: of Jonathan collapsing, begging her to find the kitchens and get someone named Youssef, of pulling his unconscious body into a broom closet where he wouldn’t be found -- _“I’m going to be right back, I promise,”_ \-- and tracking down the kitchens and then its head chef, Youssef, who came running at the first mention of Jonathan’s name… 

In a daze, she watched Youssef take Jonathan’s pulse, examine the countless bloody bruises on his face. She wondered distantly what Richard was doing and if he regretted any of what he’d done. 

“Do you need to disappear?” asked Youssef. “I have a sofa bed. I can take you to my place.”

“This could be dangerous for you,” Jed said. “Are you sure that --”

“I’ve known Jonathan for a long time.” Youssef helped her pull Jonathan to his feet. “You get used to that.”

 

And just like that, Youssef had escorted them to his car and gotten them on the road. Jed stayed in the backseat with Jonathan while Youssef drove. His head lay heavy and abused in her lap, turned to face her belly. He was still unconscious and every bump in the road jostled him. 

A siren went off in the distance and Jed jumped. Youssef caught the movement in the rearview mirror and shook his head. 

“Best thing to do is not worry about it,” he said and Jed nodded, trying to stay calm. She had to keep her cool for both of them now. In her lap, Jonathan opened his eyes blearily. 

“What’s going on?” he murmured.

“We’re alright. I found Youssef. He’s driving us to his house.”

“Nearly there,” called Youssef over his shoulder.

“You see?” she said, threading their fingers together. “We’re going to be just fine.” But his eyes were already rolling back into his hand and all Jed could do was keep stroking his hair and hope that the fluttering pulse she felt in his wrist wouldn’t stop. Because then she’d be really alone.

 

He woke again when the car stopped, wincing at the sound of the door slamming.

“Okay. We’re going to have to do this quick,” said Youssef, opening the door to the backseat. He saw that Jonathan’s eyes were open and smiled. “Hey, man.”

With an awkward lurch that made Jonathan yelp, they pulled him from the car and into the apartment building. His hair had left a wet patch on Jed’s jeans, making them stick to her legs as they quickly made their way up the fire escape of Youssef’s apartment building. The pace was merciless on Jonathan, who had to stop for a minute about halfway through. Youssef clearly had questions as Jed held Jonathan close, letting him gasp into her shoulder, but said nothing. And then they were off again and he was leading them into his apartment: living room, kitchenette, and a bedroom and bathroom down the hall. 

“I’ll set up the sofa bed,” Youssef said, dropping his keys on the kitchen counter. “There’s some stuff in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. First door on the left,” he added over his shoulder as he began to pull off the sofa cushions. Jed thanked him and helped Jonathan down the hall.

He more or less dropped to the floor outside the shower as Jed rifled through the contents of the medicine cabinet over the sink. Floss, toothpaste, painkillers, disinfectant ointment. It would have to do. Grabbing the pills and the ointment, she knelt beside him and showed them to him. 

“I’m going to help you, okay?” He nodded miserably and then winced, the motion clearly hurting his head. His wounds had been bleeding freely for the last twenty minutes. Back at the sink, she found a washcloth and ran some water over it. The sound of the tap running made Jonathan groan incoherently and he tried to duck out of the way of the cloth when she brought it near his face. His breathing quickened in what was unmistakably panic. “Nonono,” she murmured, “I’m trying to help you, okay?” She gingerly touched his jaw, making him look at her. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” He hesitated, swallowed painfully, and then nodded.

At the first contact with the cloth, he whimpered; Jed immediately drew back. His hand found her free one, twisting their fingers together, and she went again, trying to be as gentle as possible.

The ointment was harder only because of the added pressure she had to use. A vein throbbed in his neck, but he only cried out one more time. His hand was iron around her own. When she held up the bottle of painkillers and asked him if he wanted them, he made a desperate affirmative sound in his throat. He swallowed the pills -- three of them -- dry.

Youssef knocked softly on the open bathroom door.

“The bed is set up,” he said. “How are things in here?”

“I’ve done everything I can do,” Jed said. To Jonathan: “Can you walk?”

He swallowed. “Can try.” He couldn’t move his face very well, so his words slurred badly.

He made it to the end of the hall and then they had to run to catch him. The sofa bed creaked under his weight as he settled onto it, his arms slipping from their shoulders.

“Is there anything you need?” Jed asked.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding tired. But then, he’d taken a lot of medicine. “D’you have your phone?”

Jed opened her mouth to reply and then cursed. She’d left it behind in her haste to get out. Along with Jonathan’s.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Use mine,” said Youssef, digging it out of his pocket. 

“Thanks.” She looked back at Jonathan. “Who do you need to call?”

He told her the number between labored breaths. “You’ll need to tell her who you are.”

One ring later, the clipped voice of a British woman answered.

_“Angela Burr. Who is this?”_

“This is Jed Marshall,” Jed said, eyes still on Jonathan. “Er -- Jonathan’s with me.”

_“Jonathan Pine?”_ the woman asked sharply. Jed faltered.

“I don’t -- I don’t know his surname. He told me to call you.”

_“Why can’t he call himself?”_

“There was an accident,” said Jed and suddenly her voice shook, tears pricking at her eyes. “His…” Jonathan nodded to her in confirmation. “His cover was blown,” she said, rather thickly. When she spoke again, her voice was ragged. “Richard tortured him.” _Who are you working for? Are they in England?_ Richard’s voice echoed in her mind. Jonathan stared up at the ceiling and she knew that he was willing his face into a blank. _“Is he alright?”_ Burr demanded immediately. It was almost a relief to hear the blatant alarm in her voice. No over-complicated feelings here.

“Yes -- yes, I’ve done what I can for him --”

_“Can I have confirmation that he’s alive?”_ Jed held the phone to Jonathan’s ear. He spoke weakly.

“Ms. Burr…” A pause. “Mostly head trauma. Er -- there’ll be -- I don’t want to talk about it.” His eyes were hollow, the whites of his eyes startling against the mottled purples of his face. “Painkillers. A… nine? Thank you.” Weakly, Jonathan nodded to Jed, signaling her to take the phone back. Burr’s voice sounded clear again.

_“Where are you staying?”_ Jed looked at Youssef and covered the receiver with her hand. 

“What’s our address?” she whispered. Youssef told her and she repeated it into the phone.

_“Thank you. We’ll be there within two hours,”_ Burr said. “ _Until then, stay inside and keep quiet. Don’t call anyone else. Don’t answer the phone unless it’s me.”_

“Thank you,” said Jed and Burr hung up. 

All her adrenaline seemed to leave her at once: sh sagged onto the sofa bed, covering her face with her hands.

“What can I do for you?” asked Youssef. She shook her head, lost.

“I don’t know.”

“Cup of tea?” She hesitated and shook her head again.

“It’s fine.”

A coughing, wheezing sound came from behind her; turning, she found that Jonathan had fallen asleep, his breath struggling out of his abused lungs. Another wheeze. Moving beside him, she pulled him close, careful to avoid his face. He didn’t stir, the painkillers doing their work and lulling him out of consciousness. He’d sleep for a few hours, hopefully.

He coughed against her chest and murmured something.

“Hm?” She pulled back a little to look at him, combing her fingers through his hair.

_“Richard…”_ he murmured, nestling closer. Jed froze, staring down at him. Oh god, oh no… _“Richard…”_ he said again. Clumsily, she found his hand and pressed it to her lips, breathing in his scent: bloody, with a hint of the shampoo he used.

“He’s not here right now,” she said thickly, tears pricking at her eyes. “I’m here. You’re okay. We’re going to be okay.” Her voice broke and she found herself rocking him back and forth, cheek pressed against the top of his head as she cried. He murmured Richard’s name again, along with her own; Jed found herself wishing she could put herself out, so she wouldn’t have to be aware of everything that was happening. So she could be free to want whoever she wanted without all this guilt. 

“Hey.”

She looked up, damp-eyed, to find Youssef setting a mug of green tea on the table beside the sofa. There was a second one in his other hand. “Drink that,” he said. “I think you need it.”

Wiping at her eyes, she reached over and took an obedient sip. She didn’t care much for tea, but anything would do in that moment. 

“Thank you.”

“Have you got someone coming for you?” asked Youssef, settling into the armchair across from the sofa bed. 

“Yeah. So I’m told.” Two hours, she’d said. It seemed like an age. “How can you be so calm through all of this?” Youssef shrugged.

“You take it as it comes. And I’ve known Jonathan for a while.”

Without really thinking about it, Jed climbed beneath the sheets of the sofa bed so she could lie directly beside Jonathan. His head lolled on her shoulder as she placed her arm around his shoulders. 

“How?”

“Since he worked at the hotel.” Youssef caught the look of surprise on Jed’s face. “You didn’t know?”

“No. No, he never mentioned it.” She glanced down at him -- god, his face was so battered -- and wondered who exactly she’d dropped everything to save. 

_I know so little about him. I only just learned his surname._

_Jonathan Pine._

“He stayed with me for a while,” Youssef continued. “Needed to find his feet here and I had a sofa bed. Worked out great. Did he ever cook for you?” he asked suddenly. Jed nodded.

“Once or twice.” He’d done steaks for them sometimes and there had been the dinner the night he’d tumbled into their lives. And sometimes he’d make them breakfast -- Jed half-smiled, remembering him standing in the kitchen at the villa in one of Richard’s dressing gowns, frying eggs and laughing at something Jed had said. 

“Thank me, I taught him everything he knows.” Youssef grinned. “Before he knew me, he boiled everything. True story.” Jed laughed in spite of herself, wiping her cheeks. Then she stopped, a thought occurring to her.

“What was he like, back then?”

Youssef bit his lip. 

“We worked at different times,” he said finally, “so I didn’t always see him. But… I’d come home early sometimes and he’d still be awake from the night before. He’d just be pacing back and forth. I think he had nightmares. He told me he served in Iraq. Why?” he asked suddenly. Jed shook her head.

“I don’t know. It’s just --” She sighed. “I feel as though the more I learn about -- about all of this -- the less sure I am. I don’t understand anything anymore.” She found herself staring at the love bite from who-knew-when on Jonathan’s neck. _How_ , she wondered, _could everything have gone so wrong?_ On impulse, she bent down and kissed the bite, careful to avoid touching his face. 

“You never did say who you were…” said Youssef, who clearly had other questions he wanted to ask. 

“Jed Marshall.”

“But _who?_ Where do you fit into all this?”

It was a good question. Jonathan had asked her something similar once and she’d replied _I’m no one._ Now she shook her head.

“I don’t know anymore.”

 

Jed was woken several hours later by a pounding at the apartment door. Youssef held up a hand as she started into a sitting position and went for the door knob. Beside Jed, Jonathan stirred, peering blearily up at her.

“What’s…?” Jed put a finger to her lips, eyes fixed on the opening door. Youssef was speaking in a low voice.

“Show me some I.D.” A pause. “Come in.”

He stepped back to admit their visitors: two women, one short and heavily pregnant, the other tall and dressed in scrubs beneath an overcoat.

“Where is he?” asked the pregnant one and Jed realized from the clipped tone that it was Burr. Youssef pointed into the den. Jed scrambled out of bed.

“Angela Burr,” the woman said briskly, nodding to her. “You must be Miss Marshall.” She looked over at Jonathan and hissed through her teeth, taking in the damage. The woman in scrubs was checking his injuries, taking a pulse. Jonathan stared up at the ceiling as if willing himself to be somewhere else. “Can we move him?” Burr continued.

“We probably shouldn’t, but given the circumstances, we’ll have to,” said Scrubs. 

“Circumstances?” Jed looked back at Burr.

“Hamid Senior put out a warrant for Jonathan’s arrest,” Burr explained brusquely. “We’ll be discussing that later,” she added darkly. Her phone rang suddenly and she dug it out of her coat pocket, cursing. “Burr.” A pause. “Really?” She frowned. “I see. Any idea why? Yes, I agree that it’s odd, but we’ll not look a gift horse in the mouth, yeah? Yes, we’ve got him. On our way.” She put the phone back in her pocket. 

“What was that about?” Jed asked and then realized that it was probably nothing she was meant to know. But Burr didn’t hesitate to fill her in.

“Apparently,” she said, helping Scrubs hoist Jonathan out of bed, “there’s been some sort of schism. Roper’s not helping with Hamid’s witch hunt. God knows why.”

 

They wrestled Jonathan into the backseat of their car, a van with a second backseat. He was still drowsy, the painkillers still working hard. On her way to the car, Jed grabbed Youssef’s arm.

“Hey, thanks for everything.”

“No problem,” he said, waving her off. “Remember me to him, will you?” His lips twitched. “Tell him he owes me, like, twenty.” Jed laughed. It felt good.

“I’ll do that.” 

“Hey,” he added, squeezing her shoulder. “You’re going to be fine.” On impulse, she hugged him and he didn’t hesitate to return it. Burr had offered him the opportunity to leave Egypt with them, but he’d turned it down, saying that his place was in Cairo with his family. Jed hoped he’d make it. Had it not been for him, she likely would have panicked hours ago.

Now, as they sped through the streets, Jonathan stretched out over her knees once again, Jed repeated what Youssef had said to herself. _You’re going to fine, you’re going to be fine…_ Jonathan was holding her hand in sleep and she took what comfort she could from that, however limp his hand felt. He was paler than he’d been before. 

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked, breaking the silence of the car. Burr, at the wheel, glanced at her through the rearview mirror. 

“We’ve got a chopper outside the city. We’re flying you to England.”

“How much danger are we in?” 

“A fair amount,” said Burr, eyes back on the road. “But less now that Roper’s pulling his people. You wouldn’t happen to know why, would you?” she added casually. Jed hesitated -- did she know about the affair? -- and then made a judgment call. 

“I’m afraid not.”

Burr made a noncommittal noise.

_What_ is _he doing now?_ Jed wondered, holding Jonathan close. _Is he thinking of us? Does he regret any of this?_ She thought some more. _He’ll have to leave Egypt before they can trace anything back to him._

She’d left all her things there. Now she wondered what he’d do with it all. Sink it in the Nile or just keep toting it around and around the world? No, that wouldn’t be his way. Richard was the sentimental type. 

_If he’s not aiding the search, then some part of him still cares_ , she thought. _He_ wants _us to get out._

_And he hurt him anyway. Both of us._

Jonathan would steal Richard’s clothes sometimes. He’d get up from the bed and reach for Richard’s discarded oxford, knowing that it would make Richard smile. So their clothes would invariably be confused for one another’s -- perhaps he would find one of his own shirts in Jonathan’s suitcase, or a tie, or a belt. Would it hurt him, or would he simply pick up and move on? 

She would never see him again. Nor would Jonathan. So why did her soul feel as though someone had cut away a piece of it, held it over a balcony, and simply let go? 

She closed her eyes, swallowed the tears that had come without her really understanding why, and leaned her head against the seat as the car sped on through the streets and out of the city. 

 

_“Is your silencer on? Give it to me.”_

_“Shall I continue, sir?”_

_“Yes. Do it again.”_

 

Jed’s eyes snapped open. It was dark and the car had stopped at last. When she stepped out, Jed found a helicopter waiting for them. Several people in scrubs ran out with a stretcher between them. Jonathan’s eyes flicked open and he stared confusedly at the world from where he leaned between Jed and the car.

“Jed…” He caught her hand for a second and she pressed it to her mouth.

“We need to move.” That was Scrubs, beckoning them toward the chopper. “Hamid has people posted on every city exit so they’re probably already on our tails.”

 

The helicopter ride was bumpy and seemingly endless. They put a blanket around Jed’s shoulders and allowed her to stay beside Jonathan, whose pain meds were wearing off. Every jolt of the chopper made him groan.

No one spoke.

 

Hours later, they landed and then came the drive to London and the nearest hospital. The attendants had been forewarned of their arrival and ran out to meet them. Carefully, they loaded Jonathan into a wheelchair they’d brought with them, nearly dragging Jed out of the car in the process. She was still holding onto his hand, unwilling to let go. 

“Wait,” she murmured urgently as one of the nurses fixed a bracelet around his wrist. “Wait, don’t --” But they were already wheeling him away. “Don’t -- don’t -- I need --” 

To her horror, she found herself beginning to sob there on the sidewalk outside the hospital. No. No. She couldn’t cry like this. They couldn’t see how weak she was, not all these people. That had been her mission for so long -- keep everyone from seeing who she was, how desperately she needed someone to cling to. Crying made her nothing more than a child. 

“Come on, it’s alright.” To her surprise, Burr put a hand on her shoulder. “Let it out.” Jed blinked, tears slipping from where they’d caught on her lashes. The lump in her throat was large and painful and a strangled, child-like sob burst from her. She buried her head in Burr’s shoulder and, bless her, she didn’t hesitate to hold her close and let her cry herself out. “There now,” she murmured, patting Jed’s back. “You’re going to be just fine. I promise you.”

 

The majority of time after catastrophe was spent in waiting, Jed discovered. Sitting in the hospital lobby, she wrapped the blanket they’d given her more tightly around her shoulders and curled up with a pile of magazines. None of the words made sense. Nor did the pages full of smiling, perfect people who seemed to live in a world without problems, without pain, where no one thought beyond the next trip to the islands, or the next glass of champagne. 

_Oh my god,_ she thought with a start. _That was me._

 

After several hours, Jed found his room and quietly slipped inside after ascertaining that the hall was deserted. The beeping of machinery greeted her. She caught her breath when she saw him -- stretched out still, bandages and splints covering his face. His breath whistled in his lungs. 

“Hey,” she murmured, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hear her. “Hey. You’re going to be okay.” She slipped into one of the chairs beside the hospital bed and touched the hand that was not linked to the I.V. “Please be okay.” His fingers were unsettlingly limp. “Don’t you dare leave me alone, okay? No one else is ever going to understand.” There were no tears left in her, but she leaned over the bed, against his stomach, and listened to his pulse and the corresponding blips of the machinery until the slight, repetitive rhythm lulled her to sleep.

 

Burr was sitting with them when Jed woke up, a cup of coffee in one hand, watching him with a furrow in her brow. Jed scrambled to her feet, but Burr didn’t say anything.

“What time is it?” asked Jed eventually.

“About six in the morning.”

A groan from Jonathan made them both look over.

“ _Rich’d… Rich’d…”_

Burr’s lips pressed into a thin, worried line, but she didn’t question it.

“How did you find him?” she asked, eyes still on Jonathan.

“I didn’t.” Jed touched his fingertips with her own. She swallowed. “I… I told him to stop and he let us go.”

“You told Roper?” asked Burr, one thin eyebrow cocked. When Jed nodded, she looked impressed. Then -- “Wait, you _saw_ him get --” She didn’t finish, but Jed knew what she meant with a sick twist in her stomach. 

“Yes.” She’d been trying to put it out of her mind until now -- now, she suddenly heard his cries as they forced his head beneath the water. She shook herself and they dissipated. “Yes. I saw.”

“Good god, Jed, why didn’t you say something?” She came over, put her hands on her shoulders, and Jed wondered if this was what it was like to have a mother. “Do you need to talk to someone?”

_And what would I say? I watched the two men I care for most in my life tear each other apart? I thought they loved each other. I know they did. A lot more than they did me._

“I don’t know what I would say,” she said finally, helplessly.

Burr studied her face for a moment and then nodded in understanding.

“We need to get you a place to stay until this blows over. I don’t live far from here. It’s probably best for you to avoid hotels.”

“Thank you.”

_“Rich’d…_ ” Jonathan murmured again. Frowning, Burr sat down beside again. 

“We won’t be able to get Roper,” she said after a while. “Not this time. He’s already out of Egypt by now. And god only knows where he’s going. What’s your connection in all of this?” she asked her suddenly. Jed sighed and sat down in the chair opposite her. _This_ question again. But somehow it was easier to say it to Burr. 

“I was Richard’s -- Roper’s -- mistress. Jonathan and I --” She stopped, unsure of what to say. “We got close.”

“Ah yes,” Burr said after a moment. “I thought I recognized your voice.” At Jed’s look of confusion, she elaborated. “We bugged Jonathan’s phone in Istanbul. Security measure.”

“Oh.” _So that’s why he hung up on me_ , she thought dully. Then she sighed. “I never meant to get caught up in this. They’ll probably label me a victim. That’s what I usually end up being.”

“In the eyes of the bureaucracy, perhaps,” said Burr. “But not in mine. Not in his, either, I daresay.” She nodded in the direction of the sleeping Jonathan. “Busting an agent out of interrogation and getting him safely to his employers is not the act of a mere victim.”

“Of what, then?”

“A samaritan,” said Burr. Jed shook her head.

“Please, I don’t want accolades or anything. I only did what anyone would do.” 

Burr cocked her head to one side, an odd half-smile crossing her face. Jed wondered at it.

“Plenty wouldn’t.”

 

Burr let her stay at the hospital for the next night, recognizing that Jonathan’s presence was more or less a security blanket. She brought her food, books, a coat when it got too cold. The nurses turned a blind eye.

Aside from the occasional murmuring, he was quiet and lay still. Jed was reminded of the last time she’d sat at his side, bandages covering his face like a cocoon. Back when he was a faceless stranger, before she’d ever imagined that he’d steal Richard from her and then pull her along for the ride. 

“We’re going to do it better this time around,” she said and was stunned to find that part of her almost believed it.

 

Two weeks later, he could sit up in bed and had enough energy to knock the bowl out of the hands of a nurse who’d tried to wash his hair. Now he lay against the pillows of the hospital bed, looking haggard and bruised, but alive.

“I can submit a report whenever you need it, ma’am,” he said. Jed winced where she sat beside him -- his voice was still hoarse. Probably would be for a while.

“Thank you. We’ll need that in the next week or so.” Burr stood by his bed, looking professional and authoritative. But her voice was gentle. “How do you feel.”

Jonathan considered.

“Like going to the dentist times ten.” Burr’s lips twitched. 

“The doctors want to keep you another two weeks,” she said. “Something about extensive damage to bone structure. In the end, it’s your decision, but I would remind you that there is still a price on your head. Changing hospitals would probably be a good idea.”

“Agreed.” Jonathan turned to Jed. “Have you got a place to stay?”

“I’m staying with Burr.”

“Good.” His hand twisted with hers where it rested on the green hospital coverlets. There was a pause and then Burr spoke, unusually tentative.

“As I’m sure you’ve probably already surmised,” she said, “the operation failed. Roper is still a free man.”

Jonathan nodded, eyes closed. A muscle twitched in his jaw. 

“Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah.” But his fingers were tight around Jed’s and she thought she understood why: all that pain, that heartache, and for nothing… 

“There’s another thing,” said Burr, and now she sounded properly uncomfortable. “Jonathan… how were things… between you and Roper?”

Jonathan’s face took on a shuttered expression and Jed knew instinctively that he was reliving every tender moment for the last five or six months -- knew it because she was doing the same thing. He caught her eye.

“Jed, could you leave us for a moment?” She hesitated and then nodded, pressing her lips to the top of his head before quietly slipping out. She didn’t begrudge him this. It would not be an easy conversation. Richard was a voice in their heads, an expectation to find someone lying at their side when they woke, a chasm in the conversation. How could he communicate that to the woman who’d told him to hunt him down?

_Perhaps we’ll never heal_ , she thought as she sat outside the door. _And perhaps we’ll leave him with permanent scars as well._

When they called her inside again, she found Jonathan sitting with his knees against his chest, fingers laced and pressed gingerly against his mouth. It was a position she knew well, recognizing it as a sign of discomfort. Burr was facing away from him, expression impossible to gauge. When she looked up at Jed, she smiled tightly.

“When Jonathan heals, I can give you both new identities. Transport you somewhere quiet. Jonathan’s indicated that he doesn’t want to be separated from you. What do you say?” 

Jed nodded.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I’ll let you get some rest, then,” said Burr and left the room. It seemed to Jed that her voice was a little less gentle than it had been before.

Jonathan beckoned her closer and she didn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed at his side and nestle close.

“You okay?” she said at last. He didn’t respond for a while.

“I'll just have to be, won’t I?”

She gazed at him, taking in the purple-red mess of bruises covering his face, the slight twitch in one eyelid. It would take him a very long time to do that.

“Was she upset?”

“ -- yeah.” He huffed a breath of laughter. “I think her exact wounds were _I told you to bring him in, not shag him_.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She’s been chasing him for a long time. This was the closest we’ve ever been. I fucked it up.” Another huff of laughter, but there was no humor in his face as he leaned back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. 

“Why _did_ you do it?” she asked when he showed no sign of continuing. It was something she’d wondered for a while, but never had the courage to voice aloud. 

“Wasn’t my idea. Richard propositioned me and I took the opportunity.” 

“Oh.” Jed dropped her gaze. _So he was cheating after all._ She didn’t know why it upset her so much. Jonathan saw her expression.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “And… and I figured I might be able to get some leverage. And then it got _fun._ ” He spoke quite dully, as if reciting by rote. “You know,” he added, with a new note of anger in his voice, “I did whatever he wanted. I bent over for him, I got on my knees, I let him tie me up and kiss me and hold me every night…” He trailed off, too incensed to continue immediately. Swallowing, he found his bearings. “ And somehow it never occurred to me that seduction could work both ways. I just lay back and let the cards fall where they may.”

“Know the feeling,” Jed said bitterly.

“I fucked it up,” Jonathan said again.

“We both did,” Jed murmured. He turned to her. Smiling was painful for him, but the sentiment was there in his eyes.

“Thank you for being here,” he said, touching her face. He sounded calmer now. Whatever he’d needed to say, he’d said it.

They fell asleep curled around each other, hands gripping each other so tightly that the nurse who came into check on Jonathan worried that it would leave more bruises. Jed dreamed that they were afloat amid an ocean and she was holding Jonathan back from the water. Somewhere in the distance, she heard Richard say something about passion. 


	3. The Dark To See The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know what’s sick?” Jonathan said one day. "I miss him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. I am soooo sorry for the wait, but here we are. Finally. Last chapter of the final part of the collection, you guys! I want to give a HUGE thank-you to inanesanity for cheerleading me through all of this. Your commentary and the discussions we've had have been invaluable. Bless you. Another thank-you goes out to everyone who's been reading this and stuck with it even through that horrible dry spell. Y'all are great.
> 
> The title for this chapter comes from the song "Gutter Heart" by Matthew and the Atlas, which is a very good Jed/Jonathan song, I find.
> 
> I'm picturing Ben Whishaw as the counselor, but you do you. 
> 
> By the way, I have another fic for this fandom in the works. It'll be separate from the series and focused specifically on Jonathan and Roper. That should pop up fairly soon.
> 
> Thanks and enjoy!

“Are you ready?”

Hands wrapped around each other as Jed slowly stepped back beneath the spray of the shower, Jonathan following her apprehensively. She saw him flinch as the first water droplets hit his shoulders. 

He brought his hands to her hair, lathered with shampoo, and began working his fingers through it. Bubbles slid down her neck and over her back. Standing just within the range of the shower head, he was close enough to get wet, but not enough to feel overwhelmed. He’d come far. A month before, she hadn’t been able to get him near the water. Two months before that, the prospect of going near the shower with the water running had been too much. Countless times she’d rocked Jonathan back and forth on the bathroom floor as he clung to her -- so hard that his hands left bruises on her wrists. Helping someone through a panic attack had once seemed terrifying; now she was an old hand at it. 

He still looked very pale as he washed the shampoo from her hair. Jed put her arms around him, rubbing circles into his bare back and Jonathan exhaled audibly, a good sign. In earlier days he’d forget how to breathe. 

The shampoo sluiced down the drain as Jed uncapped the bottle and squeezed a small measure into her hand. When she began working it into his hair, Jonathan sighed and closed his eyes. His hands strayed to her shoulders, fingers pressing hard against the skin. 

“Shh. You’re going to be just fine,” she murmured. He nodded. “Can you bring your head forward?” He hesitated and then jerked it further into the spray for a just a moment, then snapped back, just enough time to dampen his hair enough to properly wash it. “Well done,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

Once the shower had shut off and the fog was evaporating from the bathroom mirror, she rubbed at his shoulders until she was certain his heart rate had slowed and that his limbs had stopped shaking. 

Not for the first time, she wished she had Richard there, so he could see just what he did to him. 

 

But things were admittedly better than they’d been during the first month, back when their counselor came to the door because they wouldn’t leave the house, when Jed would cry every night after Jonathan went to sleep, and when she’d sometimes catch him in the bathroom staring dully at the razor he used for shaving. She’d known immediately what was going through his mind and taken the razor out of his hand, with little protest from him.

He’d barely talked into those days: the silence of the household had been like flannel in the height of summer. 

Things were better. They were more comfortable with open spaces, Jed could deal better now that Jonathan had a stronger grip on himself, and the hollow-eyed look that Jed had feared seldom came into his face these days. He was growing a beard now. 

Burr had moved them to a village in the north of England, quiet and sleepy. They kept to themselves in their cottage on the outskirts. The other residents of the village knew them as Mr. and Mrs. Byrd. A counselor from London came up to talk with them individually every week. 

 

“You know what’s sick?” Jonathan said one day. They were in the kitchen making lunch. His face had mostly healed. “I miss him.”

Jed nodded. She knew what he meant. There were days when she found herself expecting him to walk into the room, kiss her as he slung a hand around Jonathan’s waist. Some days she caught herself longing for it.

They had their own ways of dealing with it. Jed found herself reading the news almost obsessively. Every photograph from every attack, shooting, war crime, seemed to be credited _courtesy of R. Roper._ Or whatever straw man he had now. Probably Sandy. He wouldn’t risk trusting an outsider again.

Jonathan’s coping mechanisms were less obvious. She didn’t really know what he did, any more than she knew what he dreamed nearly every night. She woke when he did, or just before. Jonathan said she had nightmares, too, but Jed couldn’t remember any of them. She’d wake up, though, usually with Jonathan’s name on her lips. 

Neither of them had jobs. Burr had fought tooth and nail to get them a pension from the government, pleading that neither of them were psychologically fit to enter the workforce. There wasn’t much to live on, but they scraped by. Their days were spent quietly. Jonathan cooked a lot. Jed read and tried her hand at gardening. In the evenings they made dinner and sat in front of the television -- watching documentaries mostly -- or just talked into the night.

 

It took them more than three months to become intimate again. Jonathan usually asked her to take charge and she obliged. He wanted someone else to make the decisions and she wanted to lose the feeling of powerlessness that haunted her most days. Somewhere, at some point, Jonathan had gotten a hold of a strap-on and lube. 

“What’s this, then?” she’d whispered, a small smile on her face. 

Jonathan sat back on the bed, looking up at her, bracing his hands back against the mattress. 

“Would you?”

There was that look that she recognized from their days in Mallorca. Precisely on the line between sweet and provocative.

A gentle kiss, brushed against his cheekbone, above the line of his beard.

“Of course I would.” 

 

Afterward, they lay together on the bed, the nearby window opening and letting in the sounds of the evening. 

“How did it happen?” she murmured, propping herself up on one elbow. Jonathan smiled a little and didn’t need to ask what she meant.

“We were out on the terrace and he comes over to me and he says -- you remember what he was like -- he says something like _listen, it’s your decision, but if you met me in the kitchen in, say, an hour, you’d flatter an old man terribly._ Or something like that.” He snorted. “I mean, it wasn’t hard to figure out what he meant. And by then I’d already decided that keeping him happy was my best option.”

“Did he mention me at all?” asked Jed. Jonathan looked uneasy.

“No,” he said finally. “I’m sorry.”

Jed rubbed at her eyes. “I don’t even know why I care so much,” she said wearily. “So,” she continued, trying to turn the subject away from herself, “you went?”

“Yeah.” He nestled into her, hand on her waist. “It was all very businesslike, actually. Blowjob against the pantry door, quick cleanup, and a thank you.”

“And then?” Part of her still missed that closeness they’d had. She still wished she could wake up pressed against both of them, warm and secure. 

“And then the next night, he asked if he could stop by my room. And I let him. I remember,” he added, with a breath of mirthless laughter, “I got on my hands and knees and he rolled me over. He said he wanted to look at me.” He shook himself. “After that, it got to be a regular thing. I actually started to look forward to it. _That_ was worrying, but I told myself that it was just physical. Thing was…” He sucked in a breath and let it out all at once. “He knew how to take control. And then he’d take care of me. And I think that’s what did it. If people are kind to me, I can’t help but…” He stopped himself. “anyway, he kept coming by until that evening with the wine, which I think was when everyone else caught on. I know you did.”

Jed flushed hotly in the semi-darkness.

“I’m still sorry. What I did… it was out of line.” 

Jonathan tilted his head over her and kissed her.

“I’m glad you did, though,” he murmured. “We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t. And I wouldn’t have you. What about you?” he murmured after a long silence. “How did _you_ meet him?” Jed rolled onto her stomach, stroking the pillowcase with a fingertip. 

“I was in New York and coming out a bad -- really bad -- relationship,” she said. “And I was kind of hungover and just wanted to calm down, so I went to a horse auction, because, you know, they make me feel calm. And he was there.” She pushed some damp hair out of her eyes. “So we got to talking and I guess he noticed that I wasn’t doing very well because he bought me one of the horses. Sarah, actually. And suddenly he was taking me to dinner and when he walked me to my door, I invited him in.”

“And just like that, you were traveling around the world with him?”

“My ex was kind of…” She trailed off. “He kept calling and threatening to kill me. I got one of the calls the next morning and he knew it had been bad because I didn’t have a very good poker face back then. Well… you remember how he was. Or, how he could be. A few simple questions later, I’m pouring my heart out to him.”

“And he offered to get you out?” 

“Yeah. And, as much as I hate to say it, he really did help me for a while. I mean --” She shook her head -- “I was _scared._ If you knew the guy I’d been with before, you would have been too.” She realized her tone was growing harsher, more defensive. “Sorry.”

But he just put his hands on her shoulders, pulsing the muscles that never seemed to loosen these days. 

“I’m not judging or blaming you,” he said. “And if I were, I’d be a bloody hypocrite.”

 

She told him one morning after a particularly good start -- he’d kept his head under the spray for nearly a minute. He listened, a furrow in his brow.

“I’ve got a photo of him, if you want to see,” she said. When he nodded, she went to her dresser drawer and pulled out a slightly bent picture of a blonde-haired toddler with dirty feet sitting on a green lawn. “His name’s Eli,” she said. “My sister takes care of him in the States.”

Jonathan smiled a little. “He looks like you.” A pause. “Was he his?” 

Jed shook her head. “No. Somebody else.”

“Are you going to go back for him?” Jed shook her head and Jonathan frowned in surprise. “No?”

“Not for a while. Maybe not ever.” She saw his expression. “He knew, Jonathan. Burr and I discussed it. He could trace him back to us. And I’m not willing to put my child’s life in danger.”

“I shouldn’t have done this to you,” said Jonathan. He shook his head. “You deserve to be with your son.”

“Jonathan, honestly I don’t think I’m in any fit state to care for him anyway.” She smiled tightly, covering his hand with her own. “It’s alright. You’re not to blame. And I’m going to be okay.”

But he was particularly kind to her that day, rubbing her shoulders when he noticed her clutching her temples and cooking dinner for her.

 

“I still miss him,” Jed told her counselor one day over the phone. “It’s confusing. Some days I wish I’d never met him. And then some days I think that if he walked through the door I’d run into his arms.”

“That’s common,” said the counselor, “for those coming out of abusive relationships. Your feelings are valid, no matter what they are. Remember that.”

“A large part of me doesn’t even recognize any of what he did as abuse.”

“And that’s common, too,” said the counselor gently. “Make peace with him in your own mind, if you can. Forgiveness is not expected of you. But acceptance will help you heal.”

 

After dinner in the evenings, one of them would make coffee and they’d sit together, talking or saying nothing. It didn’t matter which. 

Jed brought the two cups to where Jonathan sat in the armchair, typing on his laptop. He closed it as she sat on the footstool in front of the chair and handed him his cup. 

“I don’t know how you can bear to drink it with that much sugar,” she said, bringing her own cup to her lips. 

He rolled his eyes. “I could say the same for you and your _black_ _coffee_ , but I’ll refrain.” 

Jed mimed a jabbering mouth with her hand, smiling. “What are you writing?”

“Email to Burr,” he said. “She needs the final statement on the case by tomorrow.”

“Will you have to go to court again?”

“Dunno. Depends on what the powers-that-be decide.”

“If you do have to,” said Jed, “I’m coming with you.” After all the time spent in the quiet here, she didn’t like to think what kind of effect city life would have on him. Particularly if he were alone. For a moment she thought he might protest, but he merely nodded and thanked her. They sat quietly for a while: Jonathan in the armchair, Jed on the footstool, each sipping their coffee. 

Something was weighing on her mind.

“A very long time ago,” she began, “I asked you a question that you never answered. I asked why you came into our lives. What got you here.” Jonathan was staring into his coffee, his expression unreadable. “I think I’d like to know the answer now.”

Silence.

“It’s a long story,” Jonathan said at last. 

“We’ve got all night.”

Jonathan took a delicate sip and leaned back in his chair. In the lamplight, Jed noticed just how crooked the line of his nose was now. His cup clinked back into its saucer.

“Okay,” he said and began.

On into the evening, until he ran out of words and Jed had heard all she wanted to know. 

They linked hands and walked each other to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr as andtheansweris42 if you'd like to stop by!


End file.
